Gladiator: First Impressions
by Duchess1985
Summary: This story takes placed after Maximus was taken by the great gladiator trainer Proximo to become a slave fighter. He is resting in the training Luda one night when a young Pict warrior woman enters the grounds and becomes a dangerous distraction to both Maximus and the other gladiators. She will soon learn she must fight in and out of the arena for her safety.


It was close to silent in the pens of Proximo's yard; the nearly three dozen men exhausted with the strenuous physical training they had endured, and eager to end the day. Throughout the courtyard small pockets of men sat together gazing into the fire they had created to keep warm against the cold night air, their eyes glazing over with the intense need to sleep but the inability to do so.

Each man had his own past to reflect on, for the day had been filled with vigorous training exercises to get each man ready to fight in the arena two days from now. The other soldiers, aided by some veteran gladiators had tutored the men in not only battle techniques and weaponry, but crowd pleasing maneuvers which would ensure a more enjoyable viewing for the audience. Most of the men were indifferent to whether the crowd of the arena enjoyed the fight or not, for they had mostly all been bought against their will by the owner of the Luda; an old man named Proximo, heavy around the belly but quick of eye and tongue. He had paid top price for some who were known to be strong fighters, whereas others he had barely handed over a handful of gold denari for them. Their purpose was merely for entertainment; they were never expected to last very long.

Strangely enough, this hierarchy separated the men in the yard at night as well. The higher price veterans (no less a slave than the others) sitting tall on their permanent bed rolls tucking into some stown-away food. And the others like Juba and Maximus made camp wherever there was room left.

The group went quiet once more as they watched two figures approaching the gates together. Proximo was dressed in a long orange toga, made of the richest fabric. He held a young girl by the arm and was moving her along beside him casually. Maximus glanced up as they entered the yard and dismissed the visit by their master, his curiosity not taking precedence to the overwhelming emotion that swamped him in every moment, sadness. After the death of his Caesar, his wife and young child and the foiled assassination attempt on his life, a nomadic slave trader travelling toward the Empire capital had picked up Maximus and claimed him as his own. Maximus had injuries that he was sure should have finished him on their arduous journey if it had not been for the dark African man named Juba. He too had a family and spoke fondly of them, but he too wore the shackles of slavery and was aware of the upcoming fight that would probably claim his life. Maximus longed for death, whether it be at the hands of a trained gladiator in the arena of the gutless doings of a disgruntled comrade while he slept. He longed to join his family in the afterlife, for there was nothing left for him to serve on this earth.

There were immediate jeers from the surrounding men as Proximo pushed her forward through the gate. Maximus glanced up once again and recognized her this time and she stepped into the mild light from one of the fires. She was the girl he had seen just over a week ago, at the slave market were he and Juba had been purchased and transported back to Proximo's Luda. She too had been shackled and was subject to a crude interrogation of every buyer that passed. He remembered Proximo being dismissive of her at first until the desperate vendor bragged about some specific markings of her body. Without any hesitation, he flung her around and pulled down the sackcloth garment she wore. Running along her spine, twisting intricately around her muscular column were the black tattooing's of the Germanic warriors. Maximus had recognized the markings immediately, having spent seven long years in the Northern parts of Europe leading the Caesar's army to victory over the Germanic 'Pict' warriors of the land. The way Proximo handed over a bag of gold denari immediately meant that he too recognized the makings and therefore her potential as a fighter. It was rather unusual for a women to be inducted in a Luda, but it was a known fact to any with military background that Pict warriors, even women, were a fierce and formidable opponent to even the most skilled Roman infantryman. The girl was shackled and transported just like the others than had been purchased that day. But nearly nine nights had passed since his purchase and he had not seen her in the Luda training yard, although he had heard from Juba that she had been inducted as one of Proximo's waiting staff within the household and it was not very successful. Pict people were staunch equalitarians, completely against the notion of slavery; it was no wonder her trial period as a housemaid was not successful.

'I will say this only once,' Proximo began in a calm voice to the men. 'You may say and think whatever you like about her, but if anyone does anything to damage her in any way… I shall sever the offending part of him and feed it to the dogs.' A few of the men chuckled, obviously their knowledge of Proximo allowing them to understand his black humour. But although this warning came clear, Maximus could already feel the uneasiness in the yard. So could the girl, for her eyes glanced around and watched Proximo hopefully as he slammed the door and marched back to his house.

When she turned around again, even the most trained Pict could not help but feel frightened at what greeted her. Three dozen set of eyes leering, three dozen bodies that had been pushed and strained to the very limits and needed relief. Three dozen inducted gladiators that may very well have been in the slave trade due to their heinous criminal activities previously. Three dozen men who for one reason or another had not seen or been with a woman for a very long time, much less one that looked as she did. She carefully wove her way through the group, staying clear of those that looked particularly dangerous. At first there was a silence, but as she moved to a clear space they began- jeers, taunts, whistles, provocations, offers of every sordid kind. She tried hard to close her mind and keep focused. There were a few of the more dedicated sort that ignored her presence, and would claim that women as a whole were an enormous distraction for a fighter in the ring and, there were others that might have preferred the company of a young boy instead. This particular preference was mostly kept quiet but everybody knew it was a regular occurrence in the seedy quarters of the Luda. Proximo for all intents and purposes, was a good master and would hire a mule for one of his men's pleasure if he believed it would make the man fight better the following morn. He was in the business of making money, and there was not room for moral stubbornness in such a line of work.

To the distant onlooker, it would appear that Maximus was one of these two men. Either women did nothing to interest him at all, or he preferred an alternate gender to lie with. It was however, neither of these. He kept his head lowered but his eyes trained on her, no matter how he tried to pry them away. It was his instinct to observe the goings on around him and to take inventory of those that were under threat and in need. It was an especially innate skill he had to be more mindful of a woman's safety and protect her most fervently. This was the way of the Roman legion, the way he had trained his soldiers.

So when a brave miscreant reached forward to grope for the girls ankle and succeeded in tripping her over, Maximus stood to his feet. He noticed that a mere fraction after he had stood, Juba had also. She recovered quickly and kicked away, scrambling backwards on her hands. As she stood expecting to be faced with an vengeful fight on her hands, she was surprised to hear only laughter from the men as the crowd broke up and returned to their places. Even the man, although no laughter escaped his lips, gave only a sour look before slamming himself petulantly down on his thin bedroll. She was still not safe she knew that, but she could at least allow herself a moments relief at the realization that the night would most likely be filled with lewd propositions and maybe another foiled attempt at a too familiar grope, but it seemed the men would obey their master for tonight, at least.


End file.
